


Red in the Face

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [66]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Empire Awards, Exhibitionism, Existing Relationship, F/M, Public Sex, Roundhouse Theatre, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, balcony, intercourse, the red nose diaries, tom hiddleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 06:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10893201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: When Tom triumphs at The Empire Awards, Carmen is there by his side to celebrate with him.





	Red in the Face

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know the Empire Awards was long ago but I'm just catching up after a hectic spring. Apologies for the delay. Enjoy!

Tom stood in the emptying theatre, accepting congratulations from well-wishers as they streamed out of the Roundhouse. As ever, he was modest and gracious. But even he had to admit that the two Empire awards he held, one in each hand, felt pretty damn good.

Carmen appeared at his side, cheeks pink from her third (or was it fourth?) glass of Champagne and the overly warm room. She waited until Tom looked up to speak, nodding at a distinguished older man who stood talking with a group just a few yards away.

“I’m gonna go ask Patrick Stewart if he wants to make out with me.”

“No you’re not.” Tom shook his head, then smiled down at his beloved when she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, you’ve only been saying that all evening…”

“Yes,” nodded Carmen. “Because I am so determined.”

“Button, we’ve been here for three hours now.”

“I couldn’t just mosey on up to him in the middle of the ceremony,” she retorted. “Not while you were getting your awards.”

Tom chuckled. “So would a snog from the distinguished Sir Patrick be your prize then?”

“Maybe.” Carmen looked dreamy. “I mean, I’ve never kissed a knight before.”

“And what makes you think he’d amenable to that?” Tom glanced at the actor, who was now shrugging on an overcoat. “He’s married, isn’t he?”

Carmen followed Tom’s gaze, then looked up at him again. “He is.”

“Do you fancy yourself a homewrecker?”

She laughed. “No.”

“Do you fancy older men?”

“I fancy all men.”

“So what is it…”

“I like kissing.” She looked thoughtful. “And I think he’d be good at it.”

Tom kissed her on the forehead. “Bored with me already, darling?”

“Of course not,” replied Carmen. “But I wouldn’t mind the challenge.”

“Are you saying I’m easy then?” Tom arched an eyebrow.

“No. It’s just...” Carmen’s eyes flitted to Tom’s mouth. She licked her bottom lip. “You’re my sure thing.”

Tom attempted to tickle her, a mild punishment for her impertinence. Laughing, she made a weak attempt to push him away before stepping away to smooth down her skirt.

“Okay, buddy. One more trip to the loo, and then we’re off to the after-party.” Carmen drained her glass, then gave him a wink. “Back in a minute.”

His eyes followed her as she navigated the maze of tables, noting the way she danced while dodging guests. She stopped, about to turn her head and throw Tom a flirty glance, but was accosted by a dark haired man in a slim grey suit.

It wasn’t in Tom’s nature to be jealous. Or at least, it wasn’t supposed to be his nature. Carmen was the jealous one. So why did the sight of this gentleman, with the full head of hair standing so close to his beloved, annoy him? What was the secret behind the other man’s satisfied smile?

Because Richard Rankin wasn’t a stranger on the Tube who had favored Carmen with a friendly smile during her morning commute, nor was he the barista at their local cafe, fresh out of uni, who lit up whenever she stopped in for her daily croissant. Richard was an actor, a handsome one on a popular television show, and once upon a time he had taken her out on a date.

Carmen turned to look at Tom, smiling sweetly as she waved at him. When she offered her hand to Richard, a look of surprise crossed her face as he brought it up to his lips to kiss it. Nothing more than a brush, and then he was gone.

Tom took a deep breath then shut his eyes. But when he did, a vision of Richard kissing Carmen’s hand replayed itself in his head. He felt himself scowl, and willed himself to just get over it. When he opened his eyes, Carmen was standing in front of him.

“You okay, Cambridge?”

Tom nodded. “Yeah.”

“Liar,” said Carmen with a grin. “You look a bit addled, dear. How much whiskey did they give you anyway?”

“It’s not the whiskey, love.” Tom offered one of his arms to her, relaxing his shoulders when she slipped her arm in the crook.

Carmen walked beside him, looking in the direction of but not really seeing the doorway in front of them. “Could it be the Scot?”

“Don’t you mean scotch?”

She shook her head. “You know who I meant.”

Tom looked abashed, though her eyes were kind when they met his tentative gaze. “I know I have nothing to worry about.”

“That’s right.” She squeezed his arm. “You don’t.”

“It’s not his fault, that I see him…” He considered. “I see him, and then I am reminded of how you know him.”

“Right.” Carmen’s voice was soothing. “I met him last summer. He took me out a couple of times. That was all.”

“But you were…” Tom sighed. “You were about to move on.”

“No. Not really,” Carmen admitted. “Silly me, I was still in love with you.”

“Lucky for me, then.” Tom leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Leaving his lips there, he breathed in and was consoled by the scent of her shampoo. The warmth of her skin. He murmured something.

“What was that?” Carmen moved in closer so she could nuzzle his chest.

“Can we just go home? Skip the after-parties, and the after-after-parties, and the ones after that…”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she did. “No.”

“Button…” Tom pleaded.

“Baby, you have not one but two trophies. One of which actually proclaims you as a hero!” Carmen’s eyes sparkled as she praised him. “You’re really going to skip out on the opportunity to parade them around town? See how many free drinks you can score? Take advantage of god knows how many motorboating opportunities you’d get from willing victims from Camden to, um…” Carmen frowned as she tried to remember another London neighborhood.

“Chiswick? Hammersmith?” Tom yawned. “Bethnal Green?”

“Dork!”

It was her turn to tickle Tom, falling into him when he folded over, trying to protect his chest and abdomen from her touch. When he mock growled at her, Carmen pulled him in the direction of a dim staircase.

Up they went, their kisses sloppy and joyful at every step, until they arrived at the first balcony. Unlike the ground floor, which was open, there were rows of seats. Tom set his awards down when Carmen ran, tempting him to the edge. There they stood, chests heaving, as they watched the theatre staff put away tables and chairs. The lights were still dim in most places, in festive hues of red and purple while up in the balcony they were out completely.

Nobody saw as Tom pulled Carmen into him, nipping at the back of her neck while his hands scrambled under her skirt. The sound of tables being folded up, of dollies being loaded with trays of empty glasses and dirty plates, was louder than her moans when Tom pulled her knickers aside, and began to stroke her.

“Tom.” Carmen spoke more to herself than to him, an almost prayerful invocation as she moved against him.  _ “Tom.” _

While the fingers on his right hand teased, circling her clit or inside her gently, the other hand took advantage of the low neckline of Carmen’s dress. The dress was modest by celebrity standards -- a deep v-neck that rose into a slightly off-the-shoulder style with elbow-length sleeves, the black gown itself rendered in a soft, shimmery fabric. Slightly off-the-shoulder was soon history as Tom helped himself, tugging one sleeve off her arm and then her breasts were exposed.

She was breathless, and out of sorts. No longer caring if anybody saw them, Carmen could only relish the wonderful strangeness of his voice reciting in her ear: a litany of all the filthy things he’d been wanting to do to her all evening.

“I thought we might have it off, not completely, just a little fumble in the car on the way over here. But the windows were not tinted. No privacy. And then I looked at you. You looked so pretty, in this lovely dress… is it new, darling?... that I am now only to happy to absolutely ruin. Oh yes… god I love how wet you are for me. And so fucking  _ hot _ .”

“Please, Tom,” Carmen whimpered. She arched her back, shivering as the heat between her legs began to shoot up her spine. “Oh…”

Tom sucked on her left earlobe. “Patience, Button.” Sighing again, he rocked his hips in a gentle cadence along with his voice. “Then we arrived, and there were cameras. People to say hello, say congratulations. An evening fit for a hero, of course, but all I wanted to do was throw you up against the wall.” He bit her shoulder. “Lay you out on the table, push up this meddlesome skirt, slip my tongue inside you then press your little button until you were screaming my name.”

Carmen was overwhelmed. It had been a while since she felt this way, at the mercy of his ruthless desire to have her, with only his voice and his hands and his cock to ground her. This was not the cozy sex they had been engaging in since their reunion. It was cathartic in a different sort of way, not a homecoming so much as a new calibration. They were mere weeks away from living together again, making a home, rebuilding a life. There would always be time for nights in with pajamas and pasta, dumb jokes and lazy sex. But this was not one of those nights. Not yet.

“All I could think of was your smell. The way you taste. I wanted to kiss you, bite you then soothe you with my tongue. Suck on your neck, your nipples, your clit. Send someone, anyone, up to accept the awards on my behalf, as I was indisposed. ‘Tom wishes he could be here to accept this award himself, but he is currently going down on the beautiful dark haired minx seated at table number twelve.’”

A laugh escaped from Carmen’s lips, but soon enough she was moaning again. Tom never lost his grasp on her even as he turned Carmen around, grabbed her leg, and brought her against him. They stood together, one of her feet resting precariously on a seat behind him.

Before Tom could take care of his own fly, she did it for him. Her eyelids fluttered, a dreamy smile playing on her lips as her hands grasped at his cock. There was some pre-cum on the head, but she relied upon her own wetness to slide her hands up and down the shaft, letting the foreskin brush over him at the tip. She swiped at the head with her thumb.

“Good girl,” Tom groaned, and she squeezed a little before twisting her wrists.  _ “Fuck!” _ He fell forward, bracing himself on the lip of the balcony. He thrust into her hands, faster and faster, and then his cock was brushing her slit, nudging at her clit, before she guided him inside. It was fast, almost too fast, the way he filled her. She bit his chest, holding still while she relished the fullness of him. How hard and big he was inside.

Then Tom began to move, rolling his hips slowly so she could grab onto him there. Beads of sweat fell from his forehead to her naked chest. There was an ache in his back, as he had to crouch a bit, but it wasn’t difficult to find their rhythm. Carmen kept time, insisting and urging him on.  _ “Yes. Yes. Yes.” _ Tightening around him, embracing him as tight as she could, unaware or simply uncaring about the precipice behind her. Who cared if anyone saw.  _ Let them see. _

Carmen opened her eyes when she felt Tom clench, when she felt the knot in her own stomach. Above her, Tom’s gaze was fixed on her face. Lustful, possessive. He looked wild but completely in control. When his eyes widened, she threw her arms around his neck and held on. It felt almost luxurious, indulgent, the feeling of him coming inside her. His release was a surrender, and when he managed to slip a hand between them, playing with her clit until she came, her triumph felt complete.

Sweaty and exhausted, they were wrecked. Tom was about to collapse when Carmen wriggled beneath, separating from him with a reluctant sigh, and crumpled onto the floor. Joining her there, he covered her naked chest with his own jacket, cringing when she gave it an experimental sniff.

“Sorry, Button.” He kissed her cheek. “I think I owe you a new dress.”

She shrugged. “S’okay. It’s not ripped.” She squinted at the sight of him, taking note of his red face and hair that fell in limp waves on his brow. “I think we may need to freshen up in the toilets if we’re going to make it out of here, let alone hit the after-parties.”

“We could do that,” ventured Tom.

“Or we could just make a mad dash for the car and tell your driver to just take us home?” Carmen sounded hopeful.

Tom grinned. “Pizza pajama party?”

“Oh yes,” said Carmen. “Very exclusive. Only two people on the list.”

“Well, that’s awfully nice…”

“Yeah,” drawled Carmen. “Richard didn’t accept the invitation, so you’ll be going in his place!”

“Brat!” Tom tickled her again, hands fumbling under the jacket that covered her.

“Serves you right!” Carmen stopped Tom when she hugged him tight, kissing him on the cheek. “Home, baby?”

Tom pressed his face into the crook of her neck. “Home, baby.” He kissed her there. “Let’s go.”


End file.
